Coded In The Past
by crypticevincar
Summary: If the Matrix cannot tell you who you are, then who can?
'I have these memories from my life...

None of them happened. What does that mean?'

...

'That the Matrix cannot tell you who you are.'

...

Screaming. He can hear it all around him, yet he sees nothing. A dull pain rises is in his throat, almost as if on fire. It's then that he realizes the screaming is the sound of his own voice, and the darkness nothing more than his cabin upon the Perfect Dark. He sits up, breathing heavily. The air brings new rise to the feelings in his throat. It is dry, prickly, tingling; the result of numerous screams over time. He coughs at the feeling of the night air on the raw flesh.

It happened again.

The thought seems to come without him thinking it. He throws the blanket off of him. A shiver falls over him as the thin sheen of sweat covering his skin is exposed to the temperature of the room. His feet swing off to the side of the bunk, resting them on the floor, his elbows resting uncomfortably on his knees, his head in his hands.

I can't remember it...every single time I try...

He straightens himself, running a hand through his damp hair. His breathing has slowed enough for the throbbing in his ears to subside. For the first time he takes notice of someone knocking on the entrance hatch of the ship. He stands, making his way to the main corridor. He sighs to himself as he turns the lever, and opens it slowly, poking just his head outside.

"Is everything alright, sir? I heard a noise while I was patrolling. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

A dock technician. In the later hours when operations are slow, several double as dock security. Again he sighs, more to himself then at the presence of the body before him. A light nod is the only response.

"Alright then."

The technician turns to leave, taking only a few steps before turning back toward the ship.

"If you'd be more comfortable, sir, other arrangements have been made for..."

The hatch closes before the tech has a chance to finish his thought. It isn't that the sentiment isn't appreciated. More than once the techs have stopped to check in, more than once has this scenario taken place. He makes his way back to his cabin, falling onto the cot.

"I already know about the other arrangements..."

He rubs his eyes. Since EPN has reoccupied Zion, quarters have been prepared for each Captain, crew, and family member. But for as long as he can remember, ever since joining the cause, he hasn't slept anywhere other than the quarters on that ship. Sure, the air is stale and cold, the cot old and stiff, but it was all he'd known since leaving Zion, since before the machines destroyed for what they all thought was good.

That's the third time tonight...

"I know." He says, answering his own thoughts.

It's always the same thing.

"Yeah...I just can't see it. If I could..."

He sits up again, rising to his feet as he hits a button to turn on the interior lights. The sudden shine makes his tired eyes burn, and he squints until his vision returns. Slowly he makes his way to the main control hub of the ship. He turns the chair in front of him, falling into it, turning to face the screens spread out before him. He presses a button on the keyboard in front of him. The center screen comes to life, scrolling green enumerator code. He recognizes it, the Matrix. The virtual life that he rejected now appears before him as it truly is - code. He stares at the screen slowly nodding, assuring himself that he made the right choice.

Like so many people, he needed to know what it was, what that something was that just didn't feel right. The choice between red and blue after all, was really the difference between truth and lies. Taking the red pill was the right choice. This is his life now.

But what about before?

"I don't know." He says aloud "I know it's there, I just don't know what it was."

Maybe. Or maybe you don't want to know. Maybe you don't want to remember.

He traces a finger lightly over the keys, resting on one, tapping it lightly. Without thinking he presses it, a small command line appearing at the bottom of the screen. His fingers move across the keys in an intricate dance, all the while the look on his face remaining the same. Within a matter of moments, DMV, death, birth, financial, and police records were checked. Nothing, like all the searches before. He falls back in the chair, feeling the ages old padding not quite give under the pressure of his body.

"Fuck it." He says "What's the point? Thirteen years ago, right? It wasn't real anyway... It wasn't real. If I can't remember it, I can't miss it."

But you miss the memory you don't have.

As he opens his mouth to respond to his mind's new line of probing, he instinctively presses another button on the keyboard. On the screen to the left appears a list of names. He repositions the screen as he reads the information listed.

Crew manifest - HvCFT Perfect Dark

Cixader - MIA

Sabus - MIA

Key17 - MIA

Vengeis - MIA

CoolXero - MIA

Entente - MIA

XRontix (Captain) - MIA

CrypticEvincar (First mate) - Active

His eyes stop on the name 'XRontix'. His fingers begin to strum on the arm of the chair, and he suddenly realizes he's leaning forward.

MIA - More like he just left.

He stares at the screen again, his brow starting to furrow. The green letters start to merge together from the proximity of his eyes to the screen. His hand lashes out making contact with the screen, his body rising from the chair. He starts to pace angrily back and forth, his uncovered feet making a softer sound on the grated floor than his usual boots.

Command codes are locked... I can't clear out the old manifest, can't recruit... Hell I'm lucky I even have access to the central database at all.

"You could have done this differently! Damn you!"

He turns the screen back toward him, pointing at it as if expecting a response.

"You think I enjoy this? Do you?! Do I enjoy being the only person on this ship? Do I like restricted access to the ship I'm commanding?"

He turns away, locking his fingers behind head in frustration.

"Being able to jack-in only when there's a spare operator available. Command limiting me to short excursions away from the dock due to crew restraints. Why didn't you just step down before you left? Release the command codes...give me command the right way."

His head begins to throb, he feels his face become warm, and he sighs at the futility of his actions. He makes his way back to the chair, again falling into it. He fixes the left screen to its original position, and takes another look at the falling code at the center screen.

What am I doing?

He runs a hand through his still damp hair, wiping it on his shirt, adding to the dampness already there.

Yelling at people that can't hear me and...

He stares at the center screen again, watching the lines of code fall and change.

"And...chasing the ghosts of my past."

He closes his eyes, feeling as if at this point he may sleep in that very chair more comfortably than he has in months.

How do you know...that your ghosts aren't chasing you?

His eyes open at this sudden and unexpected thought. Before he can even begin to think about an answer the screen at his right comes to life. A cursor is blinking in the corner. He turns the chair to face this screen.

"They wouldn't give me orders without an operator."

He watches as text scrolls across the screen.

Establishing Secure Communications Link . . . Please Wait

. . .

. . . .

. . . . .

Secure Link Established

/Incoming Transmission/

/Calculating Source: Unknown/

/Carrier Anomaly Detected/

/Message Follows/

A little late night reading, eh? And I thought your search for the truth would have ended when you were set free. Anyway, I have a pretty good idea what you're looking for. Just thought I'd help you out before you tried hacking a Machine database and got yourself killed. After all, the truth is no fun if you're dead, am I right? Now there is a catch to all this. You're going to have to find me if you really want to find out who you are. Or rather, who you were. So here's your first 'White Rabbit', so to speak. Follow it, and it should lead you to me.

/Datastream Open/

He watches as a series of symbols appear on the screen before him. He's on his feet now, shifting his weight back and forth between them. His eyes narrow as he follows across the screen, attempting to make sense of the characters before him.

"It's...Matrix coding, but... It's encrypted. Who the hell...could take me days, maybe..."

He stops as more of the message appears below the unreadable text.

There you go. Yes, I encrypted the coordinates. I can't just hand you an opportunity like this after all, can I? You might not appreciate it as much. But you'll figure it out faster than the best cryptographers in Zion, because you've seen this before. It'll be just like when you were a kid. I have faith in you that you'll figure it out in time. And just in case you're thinking about just deleting this when you're done reading, here's a little something to keep you interested.

/Opening File/

/Decrypting File news_051499/

/File Playing/

A video file opens on the screen before him. Slowly he lowers his body into the chair again, resting on his knees as he listens to the face now on the screen.

"The Megacity Police Department still searches for fourteen year old Adam Laughton who disappeared from his family's home in Tabor earlier this month. While there is no official word on whether the police suspect foul play, many speculate that this disappearance is connected with the hundreds of missing people associated with the cult known throughout the city only as 'Red Pills'. Interviews with the family and friends of the missing child will air later tonight. Until then we will continue to bring you updates on this, as well as other stories from around MegaCity."

/File End/

/File Saved/

The video stops playing, leaving the screen blank as it was before the message was received. He breathes for the first time in what feels like hours. His chest feels heavy with each new breath he takes in.

"Adam." He says "It...sounds...it sounds right. But who..."

He reaches for the keyboard, typing furiously, attempting to trace the message back to its source. Over and over he tries, with no success. Finally the screen clears and another message appears.

If I didn't before, I hope now I have your attention. Don't forget about those coordinates. Like I said, I have faith in you figuring it out. That is, if you can get them to let you out past your bedtime. But if I were you, I'd go relax a little. I did leave you some time. Oh, and I wouldn't bother trying to trace this message if I were you. Unless, of course, you want to lose even more sleep than you already have.

DeltaRho

/Message Ends/

/Datastream Closed/

/Connection Terminated/

And as if the terminal itself had completed its purpose, the screen goes black, leaving him sitting in front of it with his mind racing. The other screens turn off due to inactivity, leaving their slight crackling to be the only sound within the ship, aside from his breathing. Resting again on his knees, he covers his mouth with his hands, speaking quietly to himself.

"It wasn't real..." He tells himself "That life wasn't real. It doesn't matter. I don't need to know."

But...you want to know.

"No... No, no, no, no. This is who I am now. This is who I am."

You're who you are only because of who you were.

His mind reels from this new thought. This thought that seems to have appeared without any conscious effort from him. He must be tired he thinks. These thoughts and side-thoughts. His own mind is playing tricks on him.

"But that message, that wasn't a trick. That file - It was real I saw it."

He types into the keyboard, once again activating the screen on his right. He sees the file saved in the proper location on the ship's hard drive.

"It's real, the message was real."

This is your chance to know the truth.

He sits back, thinking to himself. His mind thinking to itself. After a long while he stands, yawning as he starts making his way back to his cabin. He runs his hand along the wall as he steps carefully over the cables and junction boxes laying in the way. The metal feels cool and soothing to the touch, where before he wouldn't have noticed. He smiled to himself slightly at that fact. Finally at the correct door he turns off the lights, a faded grey color taking over the objects within the ship once again. He finds his cot, laying down gently, pulling his blanket over his body. Again he yawns, letting out not only breath, but months of aggravation, worry, and self-doubt. For the first time in a long time he finds himself thinking not about the years to come, but about tomorrow. He rolls onto his back, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Guess I'll see you soon, DeltaRho. Whoever you are."

Then, as if being released from torture, he closes his eyes, his body relaxes.

"Adam." He says to himself. "Okay."

And at long last...he sleeps.


End file.
